


Drekisblóð

by tangofox



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Sacrifice, Assassins, Dragons, Eventual Smut, Kings & Queens, M/M, Magic, Prophecy, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangofox/pseuds/tangofox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin, King of dragons, is the only known person inside the walls capable of of controlling the beasts outside the walled kingdom. Levi is a member of a witch tribe living on the edge of wall Maria, with only one goal; murder the false King. Centuries ago the Häxadrak people had lived peacefully among the dragons, had almost worshipped them as Gods. Only a chosen few were named Riders, equals in the eyes of the Dragons. But plague and war had almost destroyed the  Häxadrak's, and all hope had been lost, until Levi had been born with scorch marks upon his back. Now he must fulfill the prophecy, and get close enough to King Erwin to slit his throat, and reclaim the throne and the dragons for his people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Níðhöggr

Levi 

Today was Levi's last day in the village, and he was already feeling anxious about it. The weeks leading up to today had been hard, not a moments rest allowed for the boy. At seventeen he could be classed as a man (he certainly would be among his people), but men are either married, or have proven themselves worthy of the title other ways than winning a bride. Levi's chest ached as he fetched the wood into his house, trying not to dwell on the fact this would be the last time he ever fetched wood in. He doubted these duties would be given to him once he found himself inside Wall Sina, especially with the false identity he was to take. He hadn't stopped in what felt like years, every muscle hurt, every bone ached, rest only came when the sun had long set, by the time Levi's head hit the pillow he was asleep, getting a few precious hours rest, before starting everything again. He had never felt more alive, never felt as strong, as he did right now. He could feel his blade sitting snugly against his hip, and he longed for the day when he would lodge it in the False Kings throne. Soon. He had to be reminded to keep patient, good things come to those who wait, the elders told him, but Levi vibrated with anticipation every time he thought of seeing his blade slick with crimson. The blade was important to him, passed down through generations, handle forged from dragons-bone, the blade sharp enough to cut through flesh as if it were butter. Levi had used the knife in his sacrifices, but he longed to use it for his true purpose, to bring his people back where they belonged.

He's momentarily jerked out of his daydream by the sound of his sister running about in their shared bedroom, no doubt trying to pack things into his case. Last night he caught her making herb bags and trying to stuff them in his boots. He could hardly take a thing of his old life. Once at the edge of Wall Rose he would meet some witched along the way, and they would help prepare him in his disguise, and take him on the rest of his journey. He already knew he would miss his simple clothes, his warm wool cloak, that despite it's itchiness, had kept him warm and protected for many winters now. He would miss his sister most of all. Anya was too young to understand what was happening, only in her seventh year, but even she knew that she might never see Levi again. It was a grim thought. 

He drops the wood down by the big fireplace, tossing two of the logs on the dwindling flames, crouching down and prodding it, trying to get it going again. There was a chill in the air today, despite it being spring. He longed for winter already, and took today as a good sign. He wasn't one for summer or heat, though this was a fact he kept to himself. He was a son of the Häxadrak tribe, and fire was said to be in his blood. That didn't mean he wanted to boil alive in the summer heat though. He liked to think not even dragons enjoyed the hot, sticky weather. 

He's already dressed for the day, savouring the feel of his old clothes for one last time. Perhaps when his task is complete he can go back to wearing such simple garb. He doubts it though. He still has his thick brown cloak tugged over his shoulders, hood resting just on the back of his head, his black hair visible only from the front. He must ask his mother for a haircut before he leaves. He cut it himself with a razor last time, and it still looked messy. Here it didn't matter, but he knew, inside Wall Sina, appearances were everything. Under the cloak he wore a simple thick white tunic, unfastened at the throat, and dark brown trousers that fitted him perfectly, clinging to his body and allowing him to accomplish tasks without worrying about anything. He was small and thin, and too often he had had to tie his trousers to his waist with string, much to his annoyance. This pair fitted perfectly though. He wondered if he could smuggle them in. Again, likely not. He had no need for practical wear after today.

Anya comes running out of her room as soon as he's finished with the fire, foolish in thinking he might have a moment to himself, to contemplate his thoughts. As always there is plenty to do. His Mother and Father had left last night to make offerings, and wouldn't be back until midday to see him off. The childish part of him wanted his parents here to comfort him in his last hours at home. But he knew their journey was necessary. He needed the Gods on his side if he were to accomplish this task. Even if the Gods themselves had lost their ways, manipulated and forced to do the False Kings bidding. He forces himself to swallow the bile rising in his throat as he catches the child barrelling towards him, pulling Anya into his lap. She giggles, twisting her body to wrap her arms around Levi's neck, hugging him close. 

"Don't go Levi, I don't want you to leave, " she mumbles, letting out a childish huff. They had been over this what felt like a million times the past week. If she had reached her thirteenth year she would have been regarded a woman, and have every right to know what was going on. But at seven she was much too young. The Häxadrak tribe were primarily a Matriarchal society, which was why many were unhappy about Levi and his journey. The prophecy hadn't specified a gender, but most had expected a woman to be the one to take the throne. Plenty of them still thought it should be, that Levi wasn't the chosen one at all. He supposed he would find out soon enough. One way or another his hands would be stained with blood before the end of winter. He just hoped it wasn't his own.

"I wont be gone forever, you know that," He tells her, sighing when she tugs on his hair. She only does it because it annoys him. But today of all days, Levi cannot find it in him to scold her for it.

"Who will make me my porridge?" She asks him, sticking her bottom lip as far as she could. That relieved him somewhat. At least she was thinking mostly about her stomach, rather than the potential death of her brother. Levi moves her out of his lap to stand, taking her hand and leading her into the kitchen, sitting her up in her usual chair, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at his parents seats being empty. "You know Papa knows how to cook," He tells her as he takes a big pot off the stove, putting it down on the table, and filling two bowls up with the hot porridge. It was barely the eighth hour and Levi had finished most of his work, trading in the market for some milk and honey, cooking up breakfast and leaving it to settle while he fetched the wood and fed the chickens. He almost wished he had cooked up some eggs, but without him helping around, his parents would need extra to sell. His Mother and Father were both Alchemists, primarily making herbs and potions for the whole village, the kinds that came in useful in all occasions. Levi would have been an expert in his own right by now, if it hadn't been for the Prophecy. Instead he had spent the past years training to fulfil his goal, training to become the best. It had been hard.

"There’s honey," Levi tells her, taking some from the jar in the middle of the table, drizzling it over Anya's porridge, and then over his own. It had been a luxury they didn't usually bother with, but Levi thought today, it would make their parting breakfast a little special. And honey kept, his family could enjoy it after he was gone. 

"Are you going up in the mountains today 'Evi?" She asks him with a mouth full, making Levi chuckle in fondness at her.

Was he? He wasn't even fully sure. "For a little while I think," He tells her with a nod. If he had to choose on only getting to do one of his lessons before he had to leave this all behind, he would take one of those in the mountains any day. He was sure he didn't have to take anymore language lessons. He could speak the common tongue fluently, and he was confident his accent was impeccable.

Anya just pulls a face at him, going back to eating her breakfast, seemingly much more interested in that. She had been outspoken about his training in the mountains and the forest that climbed up the peaks, ever since he came home two years ago half dead. He had been running in the tree's as he often did, when he slipped on a wet tree branch, falling out of the air. He had been lucky he wasn't dinner for a bear or a mountain lion. Instead he just broke bones and had to spend months recovering. Lately however, his sister had been quiet. His mother said she understood that his training was needed, but Levi suspected she had just taken defeat. Either way, he still hadn't decided if he was glad or not.

They eat their breakfast together in silence, one that sits heavier than usual thanks to the day, and Levi is less than grateful for it. He decides then he's going to find a way to stash one of her herb bags in with him. What harm would it do? If it were found on his person he would just lie, pretend it was a trinket he bought from an eccentric market seller. The thought made him a little ill, but lying was the best option. Nobody knew about his tribe, they just assumed them another poor village and left them alone. Not even the military came by these parts. It was a good job too. If they were outed as Häxadrak they would be slaughtered like cattle, like they were nothing more than animals, instead of a proud, ancient race. Levi's people had owned the earth once. And now look where they were, cowering in a tiny village, numbers small, hiding from everyone. It was up to him to change that. 

"You're going to be late for school," He tells Anya, running his fingers through his hair as he takes his bowl over to the sink, grabbing Anya's and piling it on top. Normally he would have done the dishes, he takes pride in his house as most Häxadrak men did, but he couldn't find it in himself to spend a half hour cleaning pots and pans. He hurries Anya off to get dressed, at least tidying the kitchen a little while he waits. School was very different to schools in the districts he was told. School here didn't teach things like reading old books, or maths. School taught the past, told stories, passed on knowledge. Levi had been forced to take extra lessons, learning things that Sina children would learn, despite his annoyance at it all. They had acquired textbooks to help him, and he had found it all rubbish. Their so called History books did nothing but praise people like the False King. He longed for the whole Kingdom to know the truth. 

 

He doesn't normally walk Anya to school, but today he's more than happy to hold her hand and accompany her across the village, the company was nice, and he knew, this was really the last time they were going to spend together. They chatted about her lessons, she told him the spell she working on, one to bless their home with good dreams, and Levi silently wished he would be around to see how well it worked. His sister was talented, naturally just like their parents. He was sure she would hold high rank in the tribe once she was old enough. 

Their goodbye is nothing fancy, Anya is young enough to be distracted easily, and after kissing Levi goodbye on the cheek and pressing that herb bag into his hand, she's running off to talk to a boy stood outside of the school. He wonders to himself if that’s the boy she will marry. He hopes her future partner will be good to her. He feels a pang of jealousy, a twisting in his gut at how many choices his sister has. What to study, how to spend her free time, who to marry. Levi had no say in any of those things. But they kept telling him, things would be different once their goal would be accomplished. Levi could live a normal happy life just like the rest of them. But he knew that wouldn't be true. He had never lived a normal life, and he had no illusions about it happening. 

 

Levi dawdled his way through the streets, heading to Hange's house, but making no rush about it. He knew that he would most likely be pushed just like any other day, and he wasn't in the mood for it. His muscled screamed, and he longed for a bath. He hoped they had a ridiculously large bathhouse in Sina where he could spend days trying to rid his muscles of years worth of knots.

There's a strange purple smoke coming from Hange's chimney as he approaches, thinking about saying something, but deciding it's better if he doesn't. The last thing he wanted to do was strike up a conversation with Hange. He loved them, he really did, but they had a tendency to go on for hours about something once someone showed the minute bit of interest. Better to stay ignorant, he thought. He raps his knuckles on the door twice, leaning against the door frame a little. He could doze right here if he wanted. He isn't given chance to however, Hange swinging the door open with much more force than needed, grinning so wide it's almost scary as they wrap their arms around Levi, pulling them into a big hug. Levi protests with struggling, at first wondering if this was an escape exercise before he realises Hange is hugging him, forcing himself to relax a little, and awkwardly patting them on the back until they put him down, Levi grumbling ancient curse words under his breath before heading inside. 

He notices straight away that the purple smoke is coming from a tea kettle whistling over the fire, keeping his lips tightly sealed as he watches Hange tend to it, putting it down on the table away from the fire. He hoped for once in his life, the Gods had decided not to be cruel, and the tea wouldn't be for him. Much to his dismay, as soon as he sits down on at the table, Hange pulls out a teacup, setting it down in front of him, pouring the foul smelling liquid into the cups.

"I'm not putting that shit anywhere near my mouth," Levi grimaces, peering into the cup. There's a smack to the back of his head that almost sends him face first into the tea, hissing loudly, glaring as he leans back up, rubbing the back of his head. "What was that for!"

"Be more respectful of ancient remedies," Hange scolds him, leaning back in their chair, their arms folded neatly across their chest. "This tea is important, I've been working on getting it right for months. It will hide your scars for a while. I estimate until the beginning of winter, I think that should be enough time?"

Levi resists the urge to reach over his shoulder and rub at his back. He had been born marked, something that had driven children away from him, and that had made adults flock to him. His greyish skin was marred by angry scars, almost shaped like wings, but as if a dragon itself had breathed fire onto  
Levi's back while he had still been in the womb. These were the marks of the prophecy, marks of fire that named him the saviour of their people. It had been a heavy title to bear.

 

"You are assuming that I'm going to be getting close enough for the King to see my back," He says with a smirk, picking up the cup and sniffing at it, wrinkling his nose. Hange would be lucky if he kept this whole cup down.

"If you do not get that close, then I will consider our mission failed," They tell him grimly, nodding to the cup, urging him to drink.

He understood that. He knew his task was important, he knew what he had to do, and how exactly he had to do it. Even if some of it turned his stomach. Deciding he might as well get it over with, he holds the teacup by the rim, staring at it for a quiet moment before bringing it to his lips, tipping the hot liquid down his throat in one go. It wasn't hot when it hit his tongue, more like ice, burning his flesh from the inside out, spreading all over his body, making him roar in pain. He grips at the table, though he's unable to keep himself seated, sliding off the chair in agony, fingernails digging into the floor, back arched in the air, most definitely where it hurt the most. He felt like he was dying. Like this was never ending, and for a split second he wondered if Hange had poisoned him.

But as quickly as the sensation came over him, it's gone again, leaving him retching on the floor, whole body trembling, eyes wet, leaving little marks on the floor where his tears fall onto the wood. "You...could...have...warned...me," Levi hisses through sharp breaths, balling his hands into fists, forcing himself up to sit. With still shaking fingers he pulls his shirt over his head, taking Hange's hand when it's offered and moving to stand, letting them lead him over to a mirror. 

"I'm so proud of myself, I'm a genius!" Hange squeaks so loud it hurts Levi's ears. But once he gets a glimpse of his back in the mirror, he has to agree. It's just like he's a normal boy. No marks, no signs of the prophecy on him. He suddenly longed to go out and swim in the lake, naked, without worry for what he looked like. This would make things so easier. But thinking on it, it would make everything easier. Levi had no marks on him to signify himself as Häxadrak, had no tattoos or scarring that might give away who he was. Without the scars on his back, he could become anonymous. He could run, he could begin a life away from all of this.

"You wouldn't do that to us," Hange says softly as if they had read his mind, though they had probably just sensed his thoughts from his facial expression. Hange was only a few years younger than him, and had been training him since he was twelve. He considered them good friends. Best friends perhaps. Hange was the only person his age to never shy away from him.

"I wouldn't, but it doesn't mean I can't think about it," Levi says quietly. His thoughts were of betrayal, of leaving his family and his people, of abandoning his birthright and his Gods. He suddenly felt very ashamed.

"It's close Levi, it's natural to have doubts and worries, and to consider ways to get out of it," Hange says with a sigh, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. "You know you wont be alone there forever, as soon as I can I will be by your side."

Levi considers for a second begging Hange to come with him, to not leave him alone and send him out among the real beasts. But he knew they were right, and he was just trying to find excuses. The plan couldn't change now. It had been in the works since the day he was born, there was no turning back from it now.

Levi's grateful for Hange letting him rest a little after the tea, his legs still feel like jelly, especially after seeing his back. He can't stop touching himself, running his fingers over the smooth skin there, no marks of what was once there, what was hidden. Hange humours him, just watching him from their chair once he joins them back at the table, shirt still in a pile on the floor. His grateful feelings towards his trainer only increase when he's told he wont be heading up into the mountains today. He agreed that there was little for him to do. The past week had just been going over things, as if preparing for a test. Hange had taught Levi everything they knew, and about everything. They suggested he go make an offering of his own, one that was personal, that their gods would appreciate. Levi agreed, if only for the quiet time alone, if only for something to do.

 

He makes a stop home to pick up some bread, and things for his offering. He takes one of the baby goats out of the back, knowing his #Father would be mad at him for it, and that it would mean his saving on the eggs didn't really amount to much, but Levi didn't want this to be for nothing, he wanted his last offering to be one of worth. He didn't know when he would get to pray again. He had no idea what his privacy would be like once in Sina, and even if he found moments to himself, he didn't know if he could risk it. It would be offensive to speak prayers in the common tongue, and getting caught using his own language would result in his immediate death, of that he was sure. He tethers a rope around the goats neck, bemused at how it follows him eagerly. It's a bit of a long walk to the edge of the forest where he would make his offering. Once it had stretched vastly, but for some reason Wall Maria had been built right in the middle of the forest, cutting it in two, the North, and the South forest. Levi had never been south, had never been beyond the walls. He longed to. He longed to bow in front of a dragon, offer himself and see if he were worthy of being their equal truly. He had asked his Mother and Hange many times, but he was always met with a resounding no. Too dangerous. If the dragon boy ended up a pile of bones and ash, there really would be no hope for them at all.

He had climbed the wall once three months ago, with Hange watchful and silent. Many times he had climbed the trees, testing his agility and balance, for a thousand reasons he needed to be able to do this. He could not be worthy of the dragons if he wasn't even able to keep up with them. He liked to imagine himself with wings, hopping from branch to branch. Though he knew he had no wings to save him if he fell, something he had found out once, and was careful not to ever repeat again. He heard that the military had special equipment for running in the trees, spikes and wires that dug into the trunks and helped them keep balance, helped them soar through the air as if they were dragons. After years of exhaustive training, Levi needed no such thing. Levi soared through the trees just proving he was born to do this. The walls near his village were unmanned, no sign of the military for a long while. The trees pressed up against the cold stone, as if trying to climb up them themselves, trying to seek the outside, to join with it's other half. Hange had said he could not do it. That only dragons with fierce talons could climb the stone right to the top. But Levi had done it. He had found a foothold about twenty feet up after leaping off a thick branch, clinging on for dear life. And he had climbed all the way up, not stopping when his fingers were scratched and bloody, when his arms ached and threatened to give in and just let him drop. Levi would not let himself die like this. He knew it was foolish boasting, he was pushing himself just for the sake of it. But Hange had not screamed at him to get down, had simply stood on the branch as he leaped, and watched him. It was that day that Levi got his first view of outside the walls. He could not possible tell how far it stretched, rolling plains, a forest ten times the size of theirs in one direction, mountains that reached the skies in the other. He had seen dragons flying over the walls before, just shadows in the sky, flying at the command of the King. But here he saw them truly, even if only in the distance, he saw their mighty wings, their gigantic tails, saw the fire bursting from their mouths into the sky. They were beautiful. They were truly descended from the Gods he worshipped, he had no doubt about it at all. And he would free them. No more would the False King control them like they were beasts on a collar and leash for him. Levi would end it all.

 

By the time he reached the clearing just on the edge of the woods it was past the eleventh hour, giving him not much time. He sets the goat down, tethering it to a nearby tree as he sets up his circle. He lays sweetgrass and lavender in a neat circle all around him, making sure it's not too wide. First he lights the coals of the pit in the middle, taking his time, methodical in his movements. No matter what he has to do later, there is no rush here. Nothing is more important than the Gods. The goat sacrifice is quick and clean, using his own blade for luck, letting the blood draw into a large silver bowl over the fire. He lays down some fine cheese and fruits near one side of the circle, disposing of the goat outside of his circle, before setting alight his sweetgrass and lavender, watching as he's surrounded by the fire. A small part of him always worries about burning to death in an offering. But the flames licking at the flowers are nowhere near high enough, Levi could jump twice the height of the flames. He makes his way back to the pit in the middle, dipping two fingers in the blood, smearing it on his forehead, muttering ancient rites in his native tongue, presenting his offering to the Gods his people believed in. 

He had been to what felt like a thousand offerings and rituals, but each one was so different, he could remember them all with clarity. The Häxadrak people relied heavily on the Gods for good crops, for health and happiness, for safety and good winters. And even with his ocassional doubts and cynisism, Levi knew better than to not believe in Gods. Just because things were so different now than how they should be, it didn't mean they weren't around anymore. It was not up to God's to fix their problems, to solve things upon the ground. They were powerful creatures of the sky, even more powerful than dragons, and they were under the command of no man. But Levi knew they could be appeased with gifts and prayers, and could bestow their fortune and favour among those who believed. Levi's mother often told him that if you had the God's on your side, you had nothing at all to fear. They would guide your way. If any harm came to a person who had prayed and done his offerings, it was simply his time, and there was nothing to be done with. Death was not argued with, only accepted. Levi just hoped, that his time was not going to come soon.

As he watches the blood start to bubble above the fire, and the smell burns his nostrils, he decides it's not enough. He needs this to be successful, for the God's to bless him. With them on his side, he surely cannot fail. He unsheathed his blade again, standing so the fire makes him sweat from the closeness, pressing the knife against his palm and drawing it down in one quick swipe, tainting the blade with his blood, watching the liquid trickle slowly into the bowl. "I doubted this for so long," Levi murmurs in his own language, speaking only to the Gods, thinking only of their guidance. "I despised this, thought it heresy, thought a boy could never save the Kingdom, save even the Gods and their name. I thought it was just fools and old tales, and a way for my parents to explain the scars on my back. I thought I would go to Sina and meet my death there. But I have to have faith. I can do this, with you by my side, with you watching over me. I can fulfil this strange destiny I've been given. I don't know why me...and I guess you're not about to come down from the skies to tell me. But I have accepted that it must be me. Must only be me. And I will not fail you. I will make sure the prophecy succeeds."

Levi swears by the Gods that he hears the beating of wings above him, the faint roar of an ancient beast, but when he looks up, the sky is empty.

"I'm ready," Levi says with a sigh, closing his eyes for a second, before turning back to face the pit, cold fury and determination obvious in his eyes his expression illuminated to nobody by the fire surrounding him. "I'm ready to kill Erwin Smith."


	2. Fafnir

Erwin 

 

The dragons were restless today. Erwin wondered if he was supposed to be surprised by this news, since it was always the first thing his generals said to him when he arrived at camp. Not a greeting, not even a bow, just: "The dragons are restless today." Erwin was secretly glad for none of the stiff introductions. He had known the Army General since they had been children, and even after Erwin took the throne, they had often discarded social formalities. It seemed so unnecessary. It also served to remind Erwin that he was far away from the plush palace, from all the luxuries that being King afforded him. Out here he was just another soldier under General Zacharius. And he wouldn't have it any other way. He couldn't act like King out here, it would do him no good. Being a monarch only won wars behind closed doors, hushed conversations with politicians. Out here a King was nothing but an early target. Which was why Erwin had signed up to join the Military, had trained with all the other soldiers, had made them call him Private Smith instead of 'your highness', and had rose up the ranks due to skill and determination. If he were to be given a formal title now, he would be classed as a Captain. But of course he took no pay from the position, and handed off all the paperwork that came with the job to lower ranking soldiers. While he would have loved to completely immerse himself in the position, he had other responsibilities. He had a Kingdom to run, and keep under his rule.

As Erwin walked through the camp, Mike by his side, he wore a frown on his face. They had to solve this problem they had. Erwin's so called gift came with a lot of catches. If he wasn't in the camp, if he wasn't on the field and personally commanding the dragons they had, they had a tendency to not listen. Some rules were followed by all, one of the first things Erwin did was stop the dragons attacking, make sure none of them hurt a human being without his order. This rule meant that sometimes, if they went on the field without Erwin present, they declined to attack the opposition. They were like overgrown, disobedient pets, only behaving when their Master was around, misbehaving for everyone else. The camp was pretty empty, only a hundred or so soldiers here. Most of them were by their own tents, taking lunch, drying off sweat soaked bodies after a morning of training and scouting. Erwin expected an attack soon from the West Kingdom. He had been waiting for it for four months now. They wanted his Kingdom, and they wanted his dragons. Unfortunately for them, Erwin was not so inclined to give those things up easily. They had twenty dragons with them, all of them full grown, each between five and ten feet high, and ten and twenty feet long. Erwin often said that a dragons best weapon was not is breath, but it's tail, thick and powerful, capable of taking out a whole hoard with just one quick flick. While it was most common for Dragons to breathe fire, there were others, controllers of different elements. Erwin had done his best to breed all kinds of Dragons he had found, to create the most powerful army he could. Their main force relied on three dragons, bigger than all the rest by a few feet. Jorda, Vattna and Eld were dragons of the main elements, trained hard to be the best. Jorda, dragon of earth had wings so small and flimsy they were almost unusable. Instead she used her almost snake-like body to slither among the trees and rocks, faster than any other dragon could on land, using her powerful, rumbling roar to command the earth, to call for earthquakes and landslides, to destroy men from where they stood. Erwin fondly likened Vattna to a camel, flying off to sea to collect water and store it in his swollen belly, where he could emit large bursts of water from his mouth, often scalding hot, burning and drowning the enemies at the same time. His large belly slowed him down, but that did not diminish his power. Eld was a fire dragon, red and tall with curving black horns, her tail forked, and her snout much larger than the others. While she could breathe fire like a lot of the dragons, Erwin had her above all for a special skill, for her ability to blow great amounts of smoke from her nostrils, choking the enemy, clouding them in thick grey billows, disorientating them. If this wasn't enough to destroy all of the army, Erwin had plenty of other tricks up his sleeve. Small and fast dragons who worked together, four of them, quicker than any others. Three dragons of wind who could not only blow great gusts, but who could whip up small tornadoes with flaps of their wings. Two dragons with gaping mouths full of rows of teeth, scaly and green, resembling giant winged crocodiles, jaws ready to snap shut and feast on humans. And fire dragons of course, obedient and fearsome. 

 

Erwin knew they were fighting a losing battle, and a dangerous one at that. For every titan they destroyed, a hundred more seemed to take its place. They had no interest in attacking the dragons, only the humans surrounding them. Erwin had used that to his advantage, setting up a large area out where the dragons could keep watch, acting as guards and keeping the titans at bay. With the dragons and soldiers keeping watch, they were able to create a base camp outside of the walls that rarely got attacked, meaning they could focus on strategy and expeditions even further out. The only problem was, for serious expeditions, Erwin had to be there. The dragons were like petulant children, refusing to listen to anyone but Erwin most of the time. Of course they behaved perfectly as soon as he was on camp, but as soon as he left they became lazy and disobedient. It was something he couldn't find a solution to. They had tried several techniques, such as dressing another soldier up as Erwin, but it didn't work, they were intelligent creatures and couldn't be fooled. Erwin was running out of ideas, and it was making things difficult, for Mike especially. It was hard enough having to command an army, never mind having to deal with a hoard of dragons who wanted to listen to no-one. They had lost quite a few good men because of this, and it was becoming a problem for everyone. People were questioning Erwin, angry that he let this happen, that he hadn't found a solution for it yet.

He walks through the camp with Mike at his side, stepping over discarded trash, weaving among the tents as they surveyed everything in an amicable silence. He had been good friends with Mike for a long time now, and they both knew, sometimes silence was a good thing, not everything needed to be filled with talking and conversation. The camp was set near the left of the giant forest that spanned outside of the walls, where the trees thinned out. It wouldn't take Erwin long at all to ride back to the gate in the outer wall. Most of the army were situated inside, only a small amount, the most elite soldiers were out here. Only the ones Erwin and Mike trusted and picked themselves were allowed to ride the dragons. It was always a stressful time, pairing a soldier off with a dragon. The beasts wanted to protest, and Erwin had to be there to order them and see out the whole process thoroughly. If one of them decided to reject Erwin's command, the soldier would most likely end up dead. It was the last thing he wanted. He knew people had to die for this cause. He knew he lost soldiers every day, replaced by younger ones, ones who never had enough experience or smarts. But it was all he could do, keep replacing the dead, and try not to dwell on the death toll. They couldn't let their numbers dwindle, the titans kept coming at them, and all they could do was respond the best they could, and try not to end up all dead. Things had changed since they had acquired the dragons. There was at least a ten mile radius around the whole kingdom that was now mostly titan free. They knew to stay away mostly. Even dragons that weren't under Erwin's command dwelled in those areas now, peaceful and allowed to roam as they wished. Erwin hoped in the next year they could attempt to widen the territory, to push it another ten miles. He had tried to discuss his plans to build a fourth wall eventually, but it had not been met with much enthusiasm. There was nobody living who could remember the story of how the walls were built, they just knew they were there, and they believed that is how things should be. Erwin would have to fight the church, and plenty of officials if he wanted to built a fourth wall. And on top of that would have to somehow come up with funds, and workers willing to build the walls. It was most likely just a pipe dream, but he wanted to hold out hope that it was possible. The areas in Wall Maria were largely monopolised by Agriculture and this had to be expanded every year. Large breeding and training areas for dragons existed in Wall Rose, and both of these things took up room that the ever expanding population needed. Even with all the soldiers they were losing, people were still having children, and the population was still increasing. Erwin needed the farms the most, he needed food for the people but also for the dragons. They could eat a whole cow in a minute flat, and they needed feeding often, their strength and growth was important, especially with the dragons in the breeding pens he had created. If they needed more of the beasts on their side, they had to keep them strong and well fed. 

"Jorda killed three men last week," Mike tells Erwin, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was something many had to do often, Erwin had a heavy burden on his shoulders, a lot to do and even more to think about. It was hard to focus on one thing when there was so much going around in his mind. He nods his head at the statement, expression unchanged. He couldn't let himself be affected by the deaths of the soldiers. He knew that made him look cold, made him seem cruel to many. People could hate him, to a degree, he didn't mind. As long as he kept his seat of power, he was fine with this. He needed to change things in his lifetime, he needed to make a difference. He didn't care what people thought about him now, and after he was gone. As long as he made things a little better.

"She doesn't like so many people being around her, being crowded," Erwin tells Mike, though he has told him this time and time again. He spent a lot of time alone with the dragons when he had a spare moment, he learnt what they were like, what made them happy and unhappy. They were like his children in a sense. But they were also just tools of war in many more respects. Erwin treated them as weapons a lot of the time. Which led them to being unhappy and often disobedient. Erwin couldn't please everyone.

"It's impossible to keep her isolated, we have to keep guards watching them, we have to have handlers and feeders and riders at all times," Mike counters, pausing in his walk, sniffing the air. Erwin stops too, looking back into the direction of the forest, where he assumed something must be happening. Mike always seemed to know when trouble was happening. Erwin was sure it just followed him around.

"I will have words with her Mike," He promises, clapping a hand on his friends shoulder, squeezing just slightly to reassure him. He knew his words and commands could calm her down for a little while, at least until he returned to camp again. "Is something going on?"

 

Erwin could see nothing amiss around the camp and beyond. But he was aware of his own shortcomings and weaknesses. He didn't spend enough time out in the fields, he hadn't honed his skills the way Mike had. He was of course a great soldier, a great commander, but he knew that Mike was better. He had much more experience than Erwin did, he had better skills, had much more practice, and had talents nobody else possessed. A keen sense, better than Erwin had ever seen. 

"Come," Mike says striding forwards, not waiting for Erwin to speak, just expecting him to follow. It was a different experience to being back in the Palace, where Erwin's word was everything, where nobody came to him with short and sharp demands. Mikes approach was a breath of fresh air.

He keeps his eyes about him as he follows Mike, glad to see that his presence in the camp is met with beaming, hopeful faces. Good. It was always harder later on in the season, when the soldiers were broken, when too many comrades had been lost. This new batch seemed promising, young and strong, but then, they always did. And it didn't matter how strong they were, none of them were as powerful as a snapping titans jaws. As a unit, they could prevail, they could be powerful, cunning and admirable. They could be the army Erwin had envisioned. Or they could just be corpses, standing and breathing yet, but corpses still, just waiting to be carted off wrapped in cloth for their loved ones to mourn over. Erwin thinks of his Father, dead and buried, his mother even longer in the earth. He wondered if his people would mourn him if the titans made a meal of him. He doesn't doubt it, but at the same time it brings him no comfort. They're not a family, they don't know him truly, they don't understand. He would be replaced, and another King would take up his headaches and hard decisions. And he would be written on a page, forgotten in fresh memories, as if he had never existed to anybody. They would write stories about him he was sure. Perhaps they would tell their children of the great dragon King. But he had no certainty that they would be fond stories. He wasn't loved by everyone. He sent their sons and daughters to die. Nobody could love him for that, and he couldn't blame them. Only himself, a heavy burden weighing on him every night when he closed his eyes. But he carried that alone. In the public he was a strong figure, even if he could be a cold one. He would not show anybody how death affected him, how with every failed campaign he grew weary, feeling like a phantom in his own skin. He couldn't show anyone that. After all, if the public saw he couldn't hold it together all the time, how could he expect his Kingdom to do the same, to be brave and hopeful?

He doesn't realise they're approaching the woods until last minute, the tents and fires and men thinning out around them, replaced by tall, thick trees, growing denser in front of him, nothing but darkness along the woodland path. The trees blocked out nearly all sunlight, Erwin found himself surprised that creatures lived in there it became so dark. The titans certainly took care to avoid it, and most of the time, the wild dragons did too. It was a place of unease, a place not many people were comfortable entering. There would normally be guardsmen stationed near the entrance just in case, keeping watch. The fact that nobody was there set Erwin at unease, straightening himself up, stopping when Mike does.

"Mike what's-"

"Shh!" He snaps, cutting Erwin off quickly, much to the mans surprise, though he closes his mouth quickly, his gaze flickering between the woods, the camp and Mike, stood less on edge than Erwin was, but still had a tenseness about him, one that reminded Erwin of battle. Very little reminded him of anything else these days. A few moments later, Erwin has to blink to make sure the shadows he sees aren't ghosts come to haunt him, but actually people emerging from the darkness. He sees the two guards, blades drawn and in their hands. Behind them they drag someone, who clearly wants to resist with every step, their head down staring at the ground. Their feet dragged behind them with reluctance, their hands tied together with thick rope, the two guards having to pull them along the path with their fingers digging into the crooks of the prisoners elbows. It instantly had Erwin on high alert. Prisoners weren't something he had to deal with very often, sometimes he heard of odd things from Mikes reports, but he hadn't been on the field himself. He could already sense what was coming before he the man was even in front of him. It made his stomach twist in a way he despised.

"He's a Spákona," Mike comments before they're in earshot, the slur leaving his mouth as easily as any other words did, and Erwin didn't miss it. He can't recall ever using the word himself, but it's fallen on his ears many a time. The mystics, the tribes people had been gone a long time, almost eradicated before Erwin was even born. But a few still remained, and they assumed most of them lived beyond the walls, in places like the forest. It would be easy to hide among the dark trees, away from titans and soldiers alike. Erwin had never given proper thought to his opinion on the mystics. They had been blamed for the titans, they had been all rounded up, accused of cursing the city people, and the people turned on them, sentencing them all to death for the good of the people. That law was still in practice.

Erwin's mouth set in a hard line as they approached, saying nothing as the man was tossed unceremoniously onto the floor in front of him. It didn't seem too far fetched for people to view the mystics as heathens, as cruel and wicked people. The man snarled, looking up at Erwin, their eyes meeting for just a second, before he leans up higher, and spits straight in his face. He's earned a kick in the ribs from one of the guards, and Erwin is sure he heard the tell-tale crack of a rib. He's heard bones crunching and breaking enough times now to know what one sounds like. He ignores the guards yelling and apologies, the mans bitter cursing in his rough, strange language, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief, wiping off the spit from his cheek, before shoving it back into his pocket. He doesn't think he's ever been spit at before. He can't say he cares for the experience.

"What's his crime?" Erwin asks the guards in a calm but firm voice, looking around to see confusion on all faces, masked in his own at their reactions.

"He's Spákona your highness, that’s his crime," One of the guards says hesitantly, it's obvious he's worried about offending or upsetting the King by the tone of his voice.

"Do you have proof?"

"We found him in the darkest part of the woods, lighting torches, creating spells. No doubt trying to bring misfortune and death onto the cities."

The Kings thick brows knit together in a frown as he looks back down at the man, whose clutching his chest and whispering things under his breath. In one way, being in the forest doing spells is hardly proof that this man is committing treason, is conspiring against him and his Kingdom. But it's also likely, judging by the things Erwin has heard, has read. The last time they found a mystic was a year ago, after all the water in camp had made the soldiers sick. They lost some of their best riders that year. Erwin could watch his men die in titan mouths with a careful blank mask. But the idea of other people sabotaging their efforts and killing off his men filled him with a barely contained rage. But he does contain it, as he always did. Erwin did not show his anger outright. He tried to be tactical. He did what he had to do to keep his Kingdom safe.

He turns to Mike, and perhaps his friend senses a hint of helplessness, a touch of hesitance and wariness. This was not a situation Erwin had explicitly been in before. He had read reports, he had listened to what Mike had done. But he had never been around when someone had been captured. Mike places a gentle hand on Erwin's arm, turning his body towards him, and away from the prisoner and guards.

"Punishment for conspiring against the Kingdom Erwin," He says to him quietly, hoping it's more appeasing than simply saying his crime is his birth. Erwin's face doesn't change, he simply stares at Mike, frowning. "Do you wish to call a trial and change the law for this man? It's clear he is no royalist. He spits in your face and wishes for your downfall."

Erwin wonders if these are the honest words of a friend attempting to counsel him, or are just the opinion on someone brought up to think of the mystics as scum of the earth, as less than human. He doesn't know now and he's not sure he ever will. He liked to think people were good. He liked to think Mike wasn't truly that hateful, and he liked to think this man might have redeeming qualities in him. But at what consequence would his risk-taking be? If he let this man walk free from the camp? Would he wake up in the night to see the wild whites of the mans eyes before he slashed his throat? Erwin did not fear his own death. But he refused the idea of his life ending before his work was done. He would do something, something good, even if not everyone saw it that way. His life would not be wasted in his own eyes. His life would not be taken before he was done.

"The law must be upheld," He tells Mike with a tight nod, drawing in a deep and uneasy breath.

Mike returns the nod before turning back to the guards. "Fetch him back to camp," He tells them. "And then one of your retrieve my gear from my tent."

"No," Erwin says firm and loud, earning him startled looks all around. "Fetch my gear. I will do it."

Erwin wanted nobody's blood on his hands. But his palms had been stained and sticky with the blood of soldiers for many years now. It seemed worryingly easy for him to not care about adding another’s life. He knew it was different, that this was a life he would take by his own hand. But really, what was the difference? He handed the soldiers uniforms and blades and sent them off to die. That was his fault, his doing. He was as responsible for their deaths as he would be for this mans. And what kind of King, what kind of leader would he be seen as if he stood by the side and let Mike deliver the blow? He would be weak and he would be cowardly. He had the power to upturn the rule. He could fight the church and the government if he really wanted to, he could let all the mystics live and curse him as much as they wanted to. Then he certainly would be no King, he was sure. The throne would be taken from him before he could blink. This had to be done. And if Erwin was going to keep the law, then it was his duty to uphold it. He would not be the kind of man to let others do his dirty work.

The walk back to camp is different than their stroll to the woods, the sounds and roars from the prisoner echoing throughout the whole place, whispers from the soldiers as they watch on, all eyes turned towards them. The guards walked in front, Erwin and Mike behind them, backs straight and heads held high. With everyone watching them, they could no longer be easy friends and comrades, discussing tactics and battle news. They had to be leaders now, fearless and sure. Erwin wondered how many would follow to watch this. He could not stop them, that would seem just as bad as letting him go. Everything had to be an example, a lesson.

The prisoner is dropped in front of a tree stump, left squirming and spitting into the dirt while one of the guards pressed his foot in his back. Erwin turned away, watching the other guard retrieve his gear. He wondered how long his nightmares would haunt him for tonight. He wondered if sleep would even come at all. He walks in front of the prisoner after his gear is retrieved, strapping himself in without looking, eyes on the prisoner. If he was going to be spat on again, he wanted to be ready to dodge.

"You are to be charged with high treason, conspiring against the King, and practising illegal witchcraft," Erwin says loudly, aware a crowd had gathered, though he does not look away from the man. This time he manages to avoid the mans spit. He nods at the guards with a heavy sigh, taking that as the only answer he was going to have. The prisoner is hauled up, and surprisingly stops struggling as his head is placed on the stump, his neck bared for Erwin. It unnerved him how at ease the man suddenly looked. "I find you guilty of these crimes, and as King of these lands, I sentence you to death by beheading. Do you have any last words?"

The man turns his head, grinning at Erwin in a way that makes him feel sick. "He comes for you," The man hisses, his words sounding broken and twisted, as if he had never spoken the common tongue out loud. "He comes soon, and we will all rejoice. May the dragons sear your dead flesh and feast upon your bones, False King."

Erwin has to force himself not to look away as he brings his blade down with one hard swoop, taking off the mans head in a single sharp blow, silently proud of himself for not flinching at the sound of his headless body falling onto the ground with a thud. He stands in silence for a moment, considering his words as he watches the mans blood soak into the grass, hardly aware of the fact his own face had been sprayed with the mans blood, red wet flecks covering him all over, reminding himself, and everyone, that the King could be a murderer when he needed to be. 

"Erwin, it's done now," Mike murmurs, starling Erwin who hadn't even been aware how close he had been standing from them. His fingers brush over the hand still holding the blade, encouraging Erwin to let it drop. When the metal hits the ground, this time he does flinch, though he's fortunate enough that the soldiers aren't watching him all that much anymore. He lets Mike guide him to his tent and leave him there, standing in silence with blood on his face, and coldness in his heart.


End file.
